Fool

Well, that’s it then. You’re probably dead,
After, like the last supper,
You devoured me.

Should i call, if you don’t?
Of course not. No, never
I should be more productive..
Get washed, or get dressed.

I hope you are dead
So your absence is forced,
Not a preference; a heartsore
Not rejected ; a loss.

I would cry at your funeral
Tears catching the light
I’d be a “tragic picture”,
Resplendent, resigned

You left me your silence
Wrapped in green ribbons
Of false hope, denial
Naivety.
Fool.